


Anonymous

by Pavloving



Category: Gay - Fandom, lesbian - Fandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 13:52:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11875887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pavloving/pseuds/Pavloving
Summary: "Cheers to the most tragic love story"





	Anonymous

    Have you ever had a love so deep, a love so heart wrenching and potentially soul crushing that you can't believe you stayed in it for so long? A love that started off so pure and innocent, with every potential to be something... something unheard of. A love that if put in the hands of two experienced adults could have flourished into what it was meant to be: the most magnificent love story known to man.

    But instead it was put into the hands of two people who abused and malnourished it. Two people who did not have the proper tools to care for Love. Not that they didn't want to, just did not know how. People who prided themselves on being passionate and intense beings, only to find that those traits multiplied by two was the greatest recipe for disaster. It's funny really. The intense level of naivety of two people so dumbfounded in their love for one another. However, it does not do Love justice to only focus on the negative.

    There is something to be said about two teenagers who found each other by chance and were ready to give the entirety of themselves to the other, no matter what it took. In a generation full of self-absorbed youth who only truly care about what is in their best interest, here we have two people who cared more about the other than themselves. Two sentient beings whose scent was like a soporific drug to the other, whose touch could calm the worst panic attack, and whose voice was the best music there was to hear. Love that strong cannot be contained to the beliefs of others. It cannot be contained, it will not be chained, you cannot put a muzzle on a love that demands to be acknowledged.

    So where did it all go wrong? Now my fingers rest on the keyboard because it is tough to choose exactly which incident did the most damage. Perhaps we should start at the very beginning: I met a girl when I was twelve years of age. One grade ahead of me, she rode my school bus. That was the only place I really saw her. She would straighten her curly hair at the time, had long skinny legs that reminded me of two wooden baseball bats. Her arms were just as skinny, but I remember thinking there was something about them that made her look strong. Now, this isn't going where you think it is. I had no interest in this girl during this time period. Her head was too big for her body and her bookbag looked as though it was going to grow legs and begin wearing her instead. I, a seventh grader, was much more worried about my best friend's new relationship and getting my period. I didn't know what I had coming.

    Now that you have the preface let's fast forward to my first year of high school. She was still wearing her hair straight, but now she wore different colors in it. Green, blue, purple. Still nothing to make me notice her. I knew her, but only in passing. I guess there was something about my dog-fur covered Fall Out Boy shirt, old blue jeans, and dirty high tops that swooned her immediately. She tried, boy, did she try. But I refused to notice her. In hindsight it might have been the fear that it would bring back old feelings from the past I had tried so hard to push down. Feelings that even before meeting her would keep me up at night and make sleeping nearly impossible. The only solution was to deny they were there. So I did. 

    My tactic of ignoring her worked for the entire school year. She eventually stopped contacting me. I didn't think of her. I thought she wasn't thinking of me.

    Sophomore year. We meet again and this time her hair is curly. My hair is ironically straight. Her hair has kinks and life and beauty. It flatters her. Strike one.

    We would eat lunch together in a group and not reunite again until the end of the day at dismissal. She had a way of making me laugh that real kind of laugh that makes your abs hurt and tears fall from your eyes. She invoked the kind of memories that one would remember and smile to themselves even years later. No one else gave me that. Strike two. 

    She gave really shitty hugs. They were too rough and too quick. One of her arms would wrap around my hips and the other would wrap too tightly around my torso to be comfortable. One day I taught her how to hug me properly. Strike three.

   This period in our story was definitely the most innocent. Constant phone calls and conversations that had genuine substance. Tell me who gets to find that big of a blessing at fifteen years of age? There is a moment that is ingrained in my memory forever. The smells, the atmosphere, and her voice. Even the poor quality of a phone couldn't mask the utter purity that spilled from her mouth. 

    I was laying on my bed. At this time my room was painted a horrible purple color and my bed lay in the middle of the room under the ceiling fan. The only light in the room was a lamp that clipped to my headboard. She asked "What is love?". I cannot remember what my inexperienced brain thought love was at the time, but the question started a conversation that opened us up to each other. Or so I thought.

    At this point you probably think we're in love and just haven't said it yet. Well, you're partially wrong. Her and I did not speak of the feelings that she once had for me. It was not brought up once. But of course, Love was still present. Love was just waiting for the perfect time to arrive. Most people believe that Love has horrid timing, but on the contrary; Love arrives exactly when it must. 

    When Love arrived at my door, she made her presence known by planting a seed of worry in my heart. Making it clear to me how much it would hurt to lose her. And she forced me to react, making my feelings known. I thought now she was mine. I wanted everything with her. All day I would search for her even to just get a glimpse and all night I would imagine every scenario I wanted to share with her. But she wasn't the same. Now she didn't care to talk to me quite as much. She didn't look for me or make much of an effort anymore. But my love was so new, so exciting, I held onto it like it was the only thing I knew how to do.

    Now comes what we've all been waiting for:

    There came a day when she looked at me and told me there was someone else. Someone that understood her better than I did, that she truly loved. And when your first love tells you she loves somebody else, what is one to do? My world was destroyed. I felt like my whole heart had been ripped out and thrown into a furnace. Although I do believe I healed well enough for someone who was doing it alone. After all... she came back.

   She came back and I was distant, of course. We still proclaimed love for each other and added the complexity of sex to an already incomprehensible relationship. But I loved her. Even though it meant going back on my word of not speaking to her ever again, her lips were calling to me and I could not ignore it. Her hands knew how to navigate my body even though it was foreign territory. She is the most euphoric drug I can think of. She absolutely enthralled me in every way. When I was in her presence all my senses would override and act completely and utterly off impulse. She got my adrenaline pumping more than any rollercoaster or scary movie ever could. She was my overdose of dopamine. I belonged to her. 

    I say I was distant but that was a lie I told to myself and to her to keep my pride in tact. On my side of things she had all the control in the relationship. She said jump and I said "how high?". On her side of things it is assumed that I was the dictator. This was a problem in understanding each other that we were never able to fix. That compiled with a complete lack of trust on my end was every single reason to let go of each other. But we didn't. Something kept us both there. I would like to say it was Love that was chaining us together. Love can be stubborn like that.

   Then came the next school year. To fast forward and not bore you to death with details, she found someone else. This made for an entire semester of tears and anxiety. She kept me there though. And came back once again. In December I was hers all over again. We had everything except trust. We would later come to find out that we cannot make us work without it but let's not get ahead of ourselves. I felt blessed to once again have her there loving me. To know that she was not gone. Touching her was still has magical as it used to be and still a feeling that I would not expect to experience again in this lifetime. However, the next month rolled around and she decided to end things. This, to me, felt like the 100th heartbreak, but it was not anywhere near easy. But I managed to distance myself and almost be okay. Still in love, but okay. 

    February. She's mine, I am hers, but secretly I am scared. Wary. To me it felt like she had left me so many times in the past and now was here for a reason unbeknownst to me. My love for her still ran as deep as the ocean, but my heart would not allow me to show it anymore. This part hurts so I am going to try to keep it short. With lying to my family, not trusting her, and an antagonist being present in the relationship I decided to end it. I was not okay. Even now typing it my heart wrenches at the thought. Still angry, knowing that if circumstances had been different there is a large chance we would be together at this very moment. But let's move on.

    Love did not leave. She stayed and tortured me with the sight of her, with her scent lingering in my room, her hair dye on my pillow. That year ended and my heart was holding itself together with masking tape. I don't know about her.

    Summer started and she was present. We stirred up trouble. Ended once again. Now she's gone. 

    I left out a lot details for the sake of keeping this piece concise. There is a lot more that happened and many more tantrums thrown that go better unmentioned. But they all led to this:

    A love so deep, so heart-wrenching and absolutely without a doubt soul crushing that even now, over a year later, I am still sharing my story. Our story. It does not have a happy ending. Our lives are both moving in different directions with different people. A fresh batch of people who will hopefully be conducive to our growth. Healing is not linear but I think I am almost there. Things may not go as planned, but God knows what she's doing. Things will be alright. Much love.

 

                                                                                                                                                     - Paloma

        

 

    

 


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